The Witching Hour
by mspepper
Summary: I was inspired to write a fanfiction after reading WWBC. There isn't really a romantic pairing yet but it might be Trent/Rachel although I like Ivy too . Hope you enjoy - please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

"Excellent!" Al boomed, leaning over me to peer into the spell pot cooking on the stove.

I looked down into the pot where a gelatinous brown mush sat congealing and blinked. _I got it right?_ I was sure the spell had gone wrong when I refused to cut out the rat entrails. But Al knew best. Maybe demon spells just look different from witches' spells. After all, that brown sludge color seemed demony. I poked at the mixture with my spoon. Very Jello like. I shuddered, thinking they both probably had a lot of the same ingredients. Jello is definitely off the menu for the rest of my life.

Al hummed as he ladled a spoonful of the mixture into a vial and corked it. Guess it _was _right. I started to smile before I caught Al smirking at me. If he thought I was happy about doing minor demon curses he might move on to the bigger stuff.

I scuffed my shoe on the concrete floor. "Uh, so can you take me home now?"

Al's smirk vanished. "And leave this . . . _thing _sitting in my kitchen?"

I gaped. "You said I got it right!"

"I was merely complimenting you for the lack of pustules on your hands," Al said dryly. He flicked a piece of sand from his crushed velvet coat and fixed his red goat eyes on mine, daring me to complain.

"That was weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago."

"And now you're going to bring it up every time I do something wrong."

Al's eyes narrowed and he smiled with derision. "Stupid witch. I don't have the time to point out _everything _you do wrong."

I huffed and tapped the floor with my shoe. "Take me home, Al or I am spilling this potion all over your kitchen."

Al laughed. "That potion? If you want to die, Rachel Mariana Morgan, I can suggest much more pleasant ways." He leered at me, licking his tongue over his lips. I rolled my eyes.

"Knock it off, Al. And take me home! Our deal was you get me one day a week. Are you breaking our deal? Cause I could really use a genie."

Al morphed into my form, wearing a short black skirt and a halter top. The clothes looked vaguely familiar but I was sure mine weren't that short. He copied my stance, one hand on his hip. This always squicked me out. "Rachel Mariana Morgan, you could tempt the Devil himself," he purred, quickly morphing back into the green-coated Englishman. "But not today. You can clean the dishes today or, if you insist on leaving, I'll keep them for you until next week."

I sighed, fairly sure that by the time I returned next week the gelatinous brew would have hardened into some stone-like substance. "Fine, I'll wash them. Be ready to take me home in half an hour."

I turned back to the stove, and drained the mixture into the sink. It looked like I would need to bring Drano over next time. There was a distinct lack of household cleaners in the ever-after. Al could have used some spells to clean up, of course, but he preferred that I do it. And I refused to use a demon spell for something as simple as scouring dishes. I'd come to terms with the smut on my soul but that didn't mean that I was willing to accumulate more for just anything.

I checked my watch. Time could be wonky in the ever after, but it looked like I still had an hour to get out of here before I had to meet up with Ivy. She had been hovering over me recently, afraid for my control after I'd used a demon curse to fuse shut Kisten's killer's grave. It was annoying but somehow still comforting to know she cared. Especially after most of my friends had stopped calling once I was shunned.

Ivy and I were on a case. A baby had gone missing and her parents had called us, frantic and willing to pay almost anything for information about their daughter. I had asked Edden what he knew, but it seemed as though the FIB didn't have any leads. The parents were hoping non-humans could pick up better traces. I hoped we could, too, slightly ashamed that at least part of my desperation wasn't concern about the kid but rather that our stream of cases had dried up in the last few months. It seemed the paranormal community wasn't wild about using a demon-summoning shunned witch. Or at least not the section of the community I was willing to work for. Ivy and Jenks would never say anything to me, but I knew they were worried too. Since Piscary's death Ivy no longer had the strength of the undead. If the witches hired assassins to kills me we wouldn't have the money or power to stop them.

I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. All I needed was a plan to get my shunning reversed. Sure. I'd just do that tomorrow.

Dishes done, I rousted Al from the sofa where he was lying indolently, a gaggle of lesser demons waiting to serve his every whim.

I tapped my watch. "I need to go. Now."

"If you weren't such a stupid witch you would know already how to travel ley lines," Al grumbled, dissolving from the couch to stand beside me.

"Funny, I don't remember you teaching me how," I retorted snottily.

Al laughed. "Teach you? You stand in it, you think where you want to go, and then you're there! You are the most incompetent witch I have ever met."

I stiffened. "As I have told you over and over, I am an earth witch, not a freaking ley line witch! And now, thanks to you, I can't get anyone to teach me about ley lines."

Al looked at me, offended. "Rachel Mariana Morgan, you wanted to make a deal. I am not responsible for your shunning." He stared at me until I looked away then seemed to consider something. I watched him apprehensively as his smile widened and his eyes reddened. He leaned in until the scent of burnt umber filled my head. I wouldn't back away. If I admitted I was afraid of him these day-long lessons would turn into a whole new type of torture.

For a minute neither of us moved, me staring at him defiantly and him grinning like some sort of crazed….Newt at me. After what felt like eternity he raised his lips to my ear and whispered, "Perhaps you should ask Trenton Aloysius Kalamack why the witches shunned you."

I looked up, stunned, but before I could say anything we were travelling through the ley lines, the familiar sense of disorientation making my head spin.

By the time I recovered from the ley line trip Al was gone, and I was sitting on my butt in the cemetery. The very wet cemetery. After a moment I stood, barely noticing the muck by now permanently embedded on my jeans. My thoughts raced, barely coherent. True, Al was a demon but he couldn't lie to me. Trent? Trent was the reason the witches shunned me? Trent who I had risked my life saving from the ever-after?

"I am going to kill that freaking elf!"


	2. Chapter 2

I stomped into the kitchen, fixated on the need to completely destroy Trent Kalamack. Ivy looked up from her computer, frowning as she took in my mood.

"Rough day with Al?"

"Not really." I stalked over the refrigerator to pour a glass of tomato juice. Ivy raised an eyebrow, asking an unspoken question. I took a sip of juice, trying to calm down.

"It's something he said," I shrugged, trying to downplay my anger.

"Okay."

"I'm fine."

"Right."

We were both silent for a minute.

"But it was something bad enough to make you smear mud everywhere?"

"What?" I glanced around, only now realizing that my trek from cemetery to kitchen had trailed in big muddy footprints. "I'm sorry, Ivy. I'll clean it up."

"I know." Ivy brushed her gold-tipped hair back behind her ears and fixed me with a stare. I glanced at her nervously, noting with some relief that her eyes were still brown.

"So you want to tell me what's going up?"

I sighed, caught. Ivy was close with her emotions. It was difficult for her to ask others to open up. She knew that I trusted her but if I shut her down she would be hurt.

"It's…Trent."

"Trent," Ivy repeated flatly. Her eyes darkened almost imperceptibly.

"Al said he was the one responsible for getting me shunned," I rattled off quickly. Ivy sat with an unnatural stillness that only vampires could perfect. Her face was a complete blank.

"And you believe him."

"He's a demon, but he can't lie." I sighed, looking away to the clock on the wall. My watch was fifteen minutes ahead. "Yeah, I believe him."

Ivy lips curled upwards in a smile, but it wasn't happy. She saw where my eyes were focused, and quickly stood.

"We need to leave soon to make the Greenway appointment."

"Okay. Give me five minutes to change clothes," I said, relieved that she hadn't pressed me.

I ran up to my room, grabbing my favorite black skirt before I remember what it had looked like on Al and ditching it for a pair of leather pants. When I came back down, Ivy was on the phone. She saw me and quickly hung up. I paused on the bottom rung of the stairs.

"Who was that?"

"The Greenways. I was confirming our appointment."

She said it with perfect ease, but I knew she was lying. We never called to confirm appointments and after the tenth time the Greenways had called asking to meet us sooner I had threatened to drop their case if they called again. Not for the first time I wished I had vampire hearing.

"Okay." Ivy was allowed to have secrets. She shifted slightly, a move that I wouldn't have noticed if I didn't know her so well. She felt guilty about something. "Guess we should leave then."

I had left my car at David's so we were taking Ivy's motorcycle. We didn't do it often, but I kept my eyes shut, head down, and prayed that the other cars were smart enough to stay out of the way of a manic vampire motorcyclist. In record time we had pulled up to a stone mansion with a wide lawn and swaths of bright flowers.

I got off the motorcycle, legs shaking slightly, and pulled off my helmet. The house was oddly still. Something seemed off. Ivy took off her helmet, breathed deeply then hissed, "Sticky silk."

So the Greenways didn't want any pixies around. Ivy and I took a look at each other, gazes hardening. We might need this case, but if the Greenways had a strong anti-pixy prejudice I couldn't promise I wouldn't walk out and I knew Ivy felt the same.

"We should just leave now," Ivy said.

I wavered uncomfortably. "They just lost their kid. And maybe it's not about pixies. They could have a fairy problem."

Ivy smiled slightly. "Maybe."

"Or maybe I'm just an idiot."

Her smile widened. "Maybe."

Before we had the chance to debate it further, a long black limo pulled up to the sidewalk, sliding up to where Ivy and I were standing. I knocked on the black-tinted window.

"Mr. and Mrs. Greenway? I'm Rachel Morgan and this is my partner Ivy. We're here about your daughter?"

The driver's side door slammed and I jumped then froze.

"Quen?" It certainly looked like the dark-haired elf.

"Rachel," he nodded politely.

But if Quen was here that meant…

"Hello, Ms. Morgan," Trent said as he stepped out of the back.


	3. Chapter 3

"These cookies are disgusting," I announced snottily, putting down a gingerbread man and pantomiming sticking my finger down my throat.

"I like them," Quen said calmly from his chair. I frowned sulkily at him and he smiled at me, amused.

"Demons must have different tastes than elves," Trent muttered, biting the head off a cookie and sliding further away from me on the sofa.

Mrs. Greenway blinked then looked away, trying to pretend she hadn't heard a thing. She was a well-preserved middle-aged woman with light blond hair, fashionably tanned skin, and a husky voice very different from the one that had called Vampiric Charms. More importantly, she was an elf.

"So, Mrs. Greenway," I said loudly, drawing her attention back to the sofa. "You didn't call us, did you?"

"No," she said shortly, making it clear that calling us was the last thing she would condescend to do.

"Well, thanks. You've wasted an hour of our time. We'll put our bill in the mail." I motioned to Ivy that we were leaving. She stood, eyes warily darting around the room. Quen stared right back at her when her gaze fell on him but when her attention was elsewhere I saw him lift a hand to his neck. I guess he had some bad memories of Ivy playing on his vampire bite. Ivy's lips quirked upwards in a small smile.

"Wait, Ms. Morgan," Trent said, his melodic voice cutting through the tension in the room.

"No," I said tersely, moving to the door. Quen stood and Ivy tensed, ready for a fight.

"All we want to do is talk, Ms. Morgan."

"Go Turn yourself, Trent. You are scum. You are worse than scum." My hands were shaking slightly from repressed anger and I crossed my arms to hide them.

His lips tightened but he recovered quickly, smiling a professional smile and leaning back on the sofa. "I may be scum but I have something you want."

"You don't have a thing I want, Trent. Everything you have you buy with blood money. My blood, specifically."

His brow tensed in irritation and before he could prevent himself he retorted "I forgot how annoying you are."

"I'd rather be annoying than a murderer."

"How lucky that you get to be both." He stood, facing me with an ugly expression on his face. Ivy moved to hold Quen back.

"I am not a murderer, Trent, you freaking elf!" I took a deep breath to calm myself then put a hand on his chest, pushing him back down into the sofa. He had shot a man in his office and had the nerve to call me a murderer?

"Come on, Ivy, let's go," I said, grabbing my purse.

Trent seemed to recollect what we were doing here. "Wait, Rachel–"

"Shut up, Trent."

"Rachel, Ivy, please stay," Quen intoned, a hint of desperation in his voice. I met his eyes and stopped. He looked scared.

"I'm not here to help your boss."

"We're not asking you to," he replied softly. I averted my eyes to Ivy, standing at the door looking questioningly at me.

"Is this about Ceri?" I asked, locking eyes with Quen.

"Not yet," he replied evenly. My eyes closed. Not yet? So he thought Ceri would be in trouble?

I opened my eyes and met Quen's gaze with a steel glare. "We'll hear you out. No promises," I said flatly, taking a seat on the side table. Mrs. Greenway opened her mouth to protest but Trent shot her a look and she closed it.

"We'll pay you generously, of c–" Trent started, leaning forward.

"Shut up, Trent," I said furiously. "Quen can tell me what this is all about."

Trent seemed ready to argue. Ivy stepped in front of me, leaning in to Trent and showing a little fang.

"Please argue with her. I've never had a taste of elf. Rachel tells me you taste like cinnamon," she said seductively, reaching out a finger to stroke his face. Quen tensed but seemed to recognize that it wouldn't go any further. Trent, though, curled back into the corner of the couch, white-faced. Ivy smiled a full-fanged smile at him then moved back behind me.

I motioned for Quen to continue. He glanced at Trent and when Trent nodded he spoke.

"There have been several disturbing…disappearances recently."

I frowned slightly. "Disappearances?"

"Of healthy elf children."

I sucked in my breath. Somebody was stealing elf babies?

"The first one was two weeks ago in Texas. The parents thought it was just a kidnapping and reported it to the I.S. There was another one a week ago in California. We didn't make the connection in time to put the other children in protective custody." Quen grimaced. "Cherrie Greenway was taken three days ago."

My eyes darted to Mrs. Greenway. I had been so bothered by Trent when I came in that I hadn't noticed the redness around her eyes and how she clutched her hands together in her lap. Maybe she wasn't arrogant so much as scared. She lifted her head to meet my eyes and I saw that there were tears in hers.

"Somebody's targeting elf children?" I asked softly.

"You think it's coincidence?" Trent replied acidly. His voice cut in to my thoughts, making me remember why I hated dealing with him. I ignored him entirely and spoke to Mrs. Greenway.

"We don't have the resources for a nationwide manhunt. You need to contact the I.S."

"They won't help," Trent said.

"You're the wealthiest man in Cincinnati. They'll help," I retorted dryly.

"We're elves. You know what the I.S. is like," he said sardonically, looking me in the eye. "All werewolves, vampires, and witches too busy with power plays to provide any real help. And if they did if would just be to try to destroy my lab so that no more healthy elf children could be born. Nobody wants the elves to regain their power."

I shifted guilty, remembering Rynn Cormel blaming me for the elf turn-around.

"Then why ask us? In case you hadn't noticed, Ivy's a vampire and I'm a witch," I asked, daring him to contradict my witch-status.

Trent leaned back, suddenly looking tired and several years older. "You're honest." His voice was small, vulnerable. It was a concession.

I looked down and twisted my hands. I couldn't just sit back and let the elves be decimated. Trent may be a bastard but when I'd thought I wanted to destroy him, I didn't mean this.

I opened my mouth to tell him I would take the case when Ivy put a hand on my shoulder.

"We need to talk about this," she said, pulling me up and steering me to the door. I frowned at her and she frowned back.

"Okay, we need to talk," I said slowly. "I'll call you tomorrow." I met Quen's eyes in apology before we left, Ivy slamming the door on the way out.

I spun to face her. "What was that about?" I hissed.

She glared at me and I realized she was angry. She pulled me towards the motorcycle. "We'll talk about it when we get home," she said under her breath. I opened my mouth to argue, then looked over to where she had quirked her eyebrow. Quen and Trent were watching us from the window.

"Fine. At home. Without the audience," I grumbled, climbing on the bike.


End file.
